


Won't be walking on thin ice (to get through the night)

by monanotlisa



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aliens, Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Related, Comfort, Crushes, Episode Tag, F/F, Falling In Love, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Kissing, LGBTQ Themes, No Spoilers, Pining, Relationship(s), Romance, Season/Series 02, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8416564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: Her mother would tell you that Alex just cannot back down. Her sister would tell you that Alex is driven and determined. Alex herself would tell you she simply does what she needs to do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kicks off at the last Alex scene in _Supergirl_ 2x03 "Welcome to Earth."

 

 

Watching Maggie Sawyer saunter -- yes, saunter -- out of the DEO infirmary, Alex learns another thing about herself: _I want that._ She wants Maggie to stay; she wants Maggie to not leave at all...though, of course, watching her go is a treat. The fact she’s thinking in tropes like that is ridiculous. Alex is pretty sure there’s a rueful smile on her lips. But she can’t help herself. All that strength in Maggie, a dash of vulnerability. Alex has always been a sucker for people willing to open up to her. Opposites attract. 

 

And, fuck this, Alex is attracted. To Maggie’s toned arms, the arch of her neck, most of all the spark in her eyes. It’s been a mere minute since Maggie waved an off-hand goodbye to the DEO security counter (glass offices are a gift), and Alex misses her already. The feeling is a niggling one, especially given the fact that Detective Sawyer seems to have an actual love life. 

 

Alex isn’t going to whine to Winn any more -- she’s going to do something about her own love life and Maggie’s both. No matter that the thought of it makes her stomach or something close to it flutter, no matter that it clearly can’t be tonight. Alex needs an opportunity. If she has to create it herself, so be it.

 

::

 

Turns out the multiverse is smiling upon Alex Danvers, for once. Alex throws herself into analyzing the electro-biological conductivity of a Tamaranean space suit all next day, but the alert goes off the day after. It has Alex and her tac team jump out of the DEO van right at noon. An National City Police Department car is parked haphazardly by the steps of the courthouse; two uniforms are blocking out the crowds ogling the body on the wide staircase leading to the entrance. Maggie isn’t sitting right next to the evidence, this time around. Speaking of the actual scene? Sonofa -- Alex hasn’t seen this outside of books back in her academy days and holograms in her DEO nights. 

 

“A Zwenite, if I’m not mistaken,” Maggie says next to her, and okay, okay, _that’s_ where she is -- on the sidelines, watching, waiting. For her?

 

Alex turns around to Maggie, can’t quite suppress the hot tingle that races through her when their eyes lock. Maggie looks radiant as ever -- dark hair artfully tousled, and this morning she must have chosen a darker shade of chapstick, because her full lips make Alex’s gaze zoom in. They’re also curving upward. “Hey, Earth to Danvers.”

 

“Um,” Alex says, intelligently, “I agree.” Focus, Alex. Her recall is good; that’s one reason she has this job. “Could even just be hibernating -- if it’s a Zwenite it doesn’t have to be dead.”

 

“Hard to tell with aliens turning into stone and fusing with the environment, but you’re right.” Maggie finally looks away from her and instead at the rock-shape that almost, almost looks could be a statue. One created by a sculptor gone wild with the impression of a large body tumbling down the marble steps of a public building. 

 

Whatever it is, her DEO team first dislodges and then takes away the body, which indeed isn’t dead, just triggered into the state it’s in. Alex reports to Hank and makes sure that the bagging and tagging is done properly, then sidles up to Maggie. Maggie is quietly giving instructions to a big, burly policeman whose eyes are wide as saucers. Alex waits until the uniform has stepped away.

 

“So, how was your hot date?” Alex thinks she’s succeeded in sounding casual. She thinks so for the half-second it takes for Maggie to grin.

 

“Timely.” Maggie catches Alex’s eye, and there’s that spark again: amusement, but tinged with something else. “Saved my CI’s ass, and got a commendation at work.” Maggie must’ve seen Alex’s face, because she continues, “Got this informant who had some alien eggs; she’d managed to hook an NCPD target to buy them -- the trade was set-up for eight o’clock down by the docks. I did make it and caught a certain John Dee red-handed.” Maggie’s lips twitch a little. “Literally. And no worry, we secured the eggs.”

 

Alex wants to be more angry -- who likes being misled, right? -- but can’t seem to muster the momentum for any negative feeling at this revelation. “So although you met a lady, and the goods were hot…”

 

“...it wasn’t a romantic rendezvous. I just found it so easy to use as an excuse to slip out when you asked. Sorry.” Funny enough, Maggie does sound apologetic; she glances to the side, and her smirk is slipping a little. “You wouldn’t have let me run straight back into danger with my bruised collarbone and burn. You’re a protector, Alex.” 

 

Hearing Maggie’s voice so soft and warm still sends a shiver of joy through Alex. “Well, it _was_ stupid of you,” she hears herself say, and wow, that’s Kara levels of ineffectual insult. “I mean, I wouldn’t have forced you to stay at the DEO until recovered. I could’ve helped.” Saying it, Alex realizes this is nothing but the truth. Had Maggie asked her, Alex would have come along...pretty much anywhere. 

 

Maggie is still looking at her, face turning serious, too. “I know that now. I just --” she breaks off, does a little half-shrug. “I was too used to doing my own thing. If you want to know the full story…”

 

Alex is rusty on the romance front, but she knows what an invitation looks like any day. Her mouth may be a little dry. Even so she takes a quick look around and steps closer to Maggie. “I want to know.” I want to know _you_.

 

Maggie cranes her neck to not break eye contact with Alex. She’s so close that Alex could count Maggie’s lashes if she wanted to, a feathery sweep across those cheekbones. “The full story is that I was a little overwhelmed. The kidnapping, Alien Thunderdome, and you.”

 

Her heart is beating harder now. Alex shakes her hair out of her eyes. “Me?” Smooth, Danvers. Very.

 

“You’re quite a handful, Alex.” Maggie’s smile is softer now. “Thankfully I’ve got capable hands --”

 

 _Agent Danvers_ , Hank’s voice rumbles through her earphone. _Get yourself into Lab 7B right now. I want my head bio-engineer here to give our gray guest a proper welcome._ Alex winces. “Gotta go.” Now it’s her turn: “I’m sorry.” Maggie’s mouth opens for response, but before she can say anything Alex remembers she gave Maggie her business card, and Maggie did call her, so she grits out, “But, I’ve got your number.”

 

::

 

What her sister calls “the Zwenite Zituation” in her Saturday Tribune article takes up the rest of the day, but the night remains Sister Night.

 

“Kara,” Alex manages to get out halfway into the Paris and Rome welcome scene in _Magic Mike XXL_ ; they’ve already gone through the first movie and have reached the stage of disappearing into the sofa cushions next to each other, “Remember college?”

 

Kara is busy trying to fold the last pepperoni slice into creative patterns. She purses her lips, although Alex doesn’t know whether it’s the difficulty of her attempt or the apparent silliness of Alex’s question. “It’s been less than two years since graduation, so, yes.” Kara looks at her, balancing her pizza origami on two fingers so the rest doesn’t get any grease stains. 

 

Alex shakes her head. “No, _my_ college days -- earlier, when you were still at Midvale Junior High. Specifically, when I brought home Grace?”

 

“Of course.” Kara’s face brightens. “She inspired a one-hour long talk from mom about us always being welcome to love whom we want to love. Grace also spent hours teaching me how to make _siu mai_ , which are, hey! Still my favorite dumplings.” Her nose scrunches up a little, and she looks all but fourteen again. Of course, she didn’t have quite the same cheekiness to her voice then: “So...you and Maggie?”

 

Sometimes she forgets that Kara isn’t quite the naive little sister any more. Alex lets out a breath. “That obvious, huh?” She’s not hiding who she is and whom she dates -- Hank knows, her DEO file has put her down as bisexual. Alex just doesn’t like to bring her personal life to work.

 

“Kind of obvious. Ish.” Kara nods sympathetically. “I mean, I understand. Maggie’s awesome. And, oh! You don’t have to hide your job or the whole alien community thing from her! That’s healthy!” They’re both thinking the same, Alex would bet: how Alex's own job affected how frank she could be with her family; how awkward Kara’s dance around James was, before she knew he’d been in on the story; how much juggling it took for Kara to work under Cat Grant. 

 

And it _is_ a good start, Alex agrees. “Less hiding...”

 

“...more fun.” Now Kara is definitely grinning in a way that’s not childlike. Twin spots of color on her cheeks. “You can even tell her about me. She’s cool.”

 

Oh, Kara. Alex suppresses an eye-roll. “It’s not a secret superhero identity if we tell everybody about it.”

 

That gets her a little Kara head-duck, but her little sister doesn’t break eye-contact. Sweet but steely. “You know, Alex, how I know Maggie is not “everybody”? You like her. You definitely don’t like everybody.”

 

Ouch. Alex swipes her hair out of her eyes. But...Kara’s not wrong. “Okay. I’ll play it by ear.” Or other body parts. 

 

On her way out of Kara’s apartment she sends a short text to Maggie: I’VE GOT NEWS. YOU GOT TIME TOMORROW?

 

It’s oddly difficult to breathe once she’s hit “send”, but thankfully Alex only has to suffer through respiratory issues for sixty-seven seconds. 

 

ALIENS OR OTHER?

 

Alex feels the corners of her mouth twitch. WHY CHOOSE? MEET ME AT THE SPEAKEASY AT NINE.

 

::

 

She’s at the speakeasy ten minutes early but has to loiter in the alleyway, because unlike Maggie, Alex didn’t get the memo of the new password. Four other patrons pass her: one with spikes; one with cloven hooves, one that looks suspiciously like an android, and one that looks even more suspiciously like Newt Gingrich. They all give Alex looks from fearful to pitying, and all hastily disappear inside. Great. Alex balls her fist in her pocket, doesn’t think of the stun gun strapped strategically into the small of her back, and tries to act like she lounges near trash cans every Saturday night.

 

But then she hears the roar of a Triumph across the cobblestones, and there she is in all her five-feet-something glory. Maggie pulls off her helmet and shakes out her hair, a cascade of silk across the black leather of her motorcycle jacket. It’s probably a calculated move, but it works. Alex’s throat is dry. 

 

“Hey,” Alex says, a little hoarsely when Maggie reaches her, “the news is, I’d like to buy you a drink.” 

 

Maggie’s laughter is quick, surprised. “Wow, Danvers. I guess after seeing you in action I should’ve known you were a straight shooter.”

 

The back of her neck is prickling, and there’s some sweat beading under her arms. “Yeah, well, I’m telling you I’m not, not in every way.”

 

A flush on Maggie’s face now, visible against her brown skin. “I’m glad. I’d been hoping.” For the first time ever, she seems speechless. Alex feels oddly gratified, although she too is blushing. Maggie blinks and jerks her head at the door. “Let’s go inside.” She bangs the metal and says, “ _Callas_.”

 

Inside, Alex breathes in the scent that she couldn’t quite place before. Yes, there’s the usual beer and linoleum cleaner, but now that she knows, there’s a faint tinge of ozone in the air, and when she squints at the dust motes against the dim lights she can see tiny silicon particles. She also squints at Darla coming into her field of vision, whose eyebrows raise at her in an almost resigned fashion. “What are you here for today, drinks or violence?”

 

Maggie’s arm brushes hers, and Alex slants her a quick smile. Mouths, _I’ll explain_. Maggie nods, slowly. To Darla, Alex says, “Two beers. Nothing else.”

 

“Except some peanuts, maybe.” Maggie’s smile at Darla is casual but charming. “Not the ones from the counter. And don’t worry. We’re cool.”

 

If only. Alex longingly thinks of the times she had everything under control. But, she promised, and gives Maggie a brief summary of her last visit -- Apple TV Fan, barstool, intel. Maggie relaxes visibly and, when it arrives, takes a long sip from her bottle after clicking it gently against Alex’s. Their eyes meet, and Alex has to get hear heart rate under control again. It doesn’t help that Maggie speaks up. “That’s...actually pretty sweet.” She grins. “Tfferak, whom you know as Apple TV Fan, isn’t a bad guy. Terrible fucking opportunist, though, so I can’t say I’m unhappy that you got to me as fast as you did.”

 

“I had to.” Alex methodically peels the label off her beer. “I couldn’t think of anything else.” 

 

Maggie looks down at Alex’s hands, tracking the movement across glass and paper. “You would have done the same for any other kidnapping victim.”

 

“Yeah, maybe,” Alex says, and this is it. “But I wouldn’t have brought them to the DEO, and I wouldn’t have asked them to stay there with me. Basically...I wouldn’t have asked them out.”

 

“Good.” Maggie slides her hands across the table and cups Alex’s hand around the bottle. “I’d prefer to keep you to myself, anyway.”

 

Alex feels light; the warm tingle in her chest is back and rapidly traveling south. “Same.” She can’t look away from Maggie’s face, stop the sensation of her hands in hers. Gun callous and smooth skin. Alex laces her fingers with Maggie’s, enjoys the way Maggie’s pupils dilate. This is real. What she’s feeling is not the beer; she doesn’t need intoxicants right now. Alex glances at the door, then back into Maggie’s eyes. “Do you…” 

 

“...want to get out of here? God, yes.” Maggie bites her lip; today she’s wearing red gloss so her mouth looks shiny and eminently kissable. “Did you bring your Ducati?” 

 

Alex shakes her head and forces her gaze upward to Maggie’s eyes again. “Took a RideGet. My place isn’t far.” She names her address.

 

“Well then, lady. Better buckle up.”

 

They make it out of the bar. To her defense, Alex has never before slammed dollar bills on a table and staggered away. In the alleyway, her fingers are still looped with Maggie’s, there’s no space at all between their arms. Alex wants to pull her in even closer, or maybe be pushed against a wall; both is good. The heat in Maggie’s gaze tells her that similar thoughts must be going through Maggie’s mind. But another alien wanders by, staring intently, and Alex lets out a frustrated huff. She catches the spare helmet Maggie throws her and climbs on behind Maggie when she revs the engine.

 

Once on the Triumph, racing through National City’s night streets, Alex grips Maggie tightly and marvels at how so much power is packed into such a tiny package. She can feel the shift of muscle underneath leather and clothing, and wonders whether it’s all vibration of the bike, or whether Maggie is shivering too, in anticipation.

 

It takes only a tap of the sensor on her, and the garage door opens for Alex and Maggie. “Fancy,” she hears Maggie say, muffled through the helmet, and it sounds very much like she’s smirking. Alex slides off, and gives Maggie the time she requires to stabilize her Triumph on the kickstand. She forces herself to breathe steadily, not rip the helmet off. That way lie bruises and strapburn. The garage is empty, no gaping onlookers, and Maggie will be ready in a second.

 

“Finally,” Maggie groans, and Alex doesn’t know who takes the first step. Only that Maggie’s hands curl around the back of her neck, and that it’s so easy to lean in and kiss her. There’s a faint trace of hops in Maggie’s mouth, but Alex makes sure to chase that away -- taste the real Maggie underneath it all. Her hair is silky under Alex’s fingers, and when they have to come up for air Alex takes the opportunity to nuzzle Maggie’s neck. She smells fantastic.

 

“Mhh,” Maggie shivers. She sounds breathless. “Do you...have an actual place above this garage? Don’t get me wrong; it’s a nice garage.”

 

Alex locates her voice and lets Maggie know that she does. It's also a nice apartment from where Alex is standing. Dark wood and steel, floor-length windows that invite you to gaze at the sparkled silhouette of National City. If you were in the habit of gazing out of windows, that is.

 

Maggie whistles. “Danvers, you’ve got some sweet digs here. DEO funding really is all it’s cracked up to be.”

 

Okay, Alex is regretting her Easy-Bake Oven comment to Maggie, just a little. But then she sees the glint in Maggie’s eyes. “Just teasing. I’m not here for an interior design critique, actually.”

 

“Oh, you’re not?” Alex can’t quite keep her expression neutral. “What are you here for, then?”

 

“No critique at all. Just you.” So simple, but hell if Maggie’s words don’t get Alex where she lives. This is not an audition. She hasn’t had sex in three years, but what do they say about riding bikes? Alex is good on her Ducati. 

 

This time she closes her eyes when Maggie kisses her, lets herself fall into the sensation. She shrugs her jacket off, helps Maggie out of hers and pulls off her red top that’s definitely not for detecting. The spark coursing through Alex’s body is a wildfire now. Maggie breathes hard against her collarbone and slides her hands into the small of Alex’s back. “Let’s practice safer sex,” she whispers into Alex’s ear, and Alex jerks until she realizes, right, _the stun gun_. Maggie’s fingers are deft. The weapon clatters to floor, secured in its holster. “Much better.”

 

When Maggie’s hand pull Alex close again again, stroking up and down her spine, she uses her fingernails. Alex gasps and presses her legs together for a second. Dizzily, she can’t remember having ever been this wet. She breathes into Maggie’s ear. “Bedroom’s to the right.”

 

Here, her salary comes to what Alex thinks of the best use of all. The king-size bed holds Maggie and her comfortably, in clothes and out of them. Naked, Maggie is a dream: perfect proportions, curves and valleys and yielding skin when she runs her tongue along ley lines only Alex can see, making sounds only Alex can hear. True to her word, Maggie does have capable hands, and Alex arches into her touch, the slick slide of her fingers until the world goes up in flames for her. Once, twice, three times.

 

::

 

Much later, when the city is as quiet as it gets, Alex traces the shell of Maggie’s ear and gently, very gently, strokes down Maggie’s neck, her shoulder, her arm. “Alex,” Maggie murmurs, and toys with the fingers of Alex’s hand without opening her eyes. “Some of us need our beauty sleep.”

 

Alex isn’t convinced Maggie can get any more beautiful. “Sleep’s good. I just --” How can she tell Maggie what she wants to say? That she wants to savor this moment; that there’s a bright burst in her chest she hasn’t felt in so long. 

 

Maggie snuffles, rolling forward an inch or so, and opens her eyes. “Hey.” Her gaze is warm, if tired. “Tell you what. We sleep now, and we do breakfast tomorrow at my place. I make a mean _queso fresco_ pancake.” Her fingers catch and hold Alex’s hand until it stills, until Alex herself stills. 

 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Alex whispers through the dwindling knot in her throat, and falls asleep with her hand firmly in Maggie’s.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd flashfic written in under twenty-four hours; please feel free to let me know any errors. More musings [in my blog](http://monanotlisa.dreamwidth.org/tag/supergirl).


End file.
